It was bound to happen some time - OTA

[averygoodshot]

Aramis keenly remembers teasing Porthos when he had stepped through the door and become a woman. He had teased d'Artagnan and even Athos.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen. He had not intended to do anything, really. He spent a good deal of his time praying, a good deal of time trying to atone for his sins.

Instead, this is what happens.

Much as his friends had, he has hitched his clothing tighter so that it may not fall down, and has fashioned something of a harness for ... well, for his new developments, as it were. He knows he could seek out Constance or even, if he was desperate, Milady, but he is not that desperate. He simply makes do and tells himself that God has a reason for everything.

He has always appreciated women and so maybe this is to test that? Who knows. Aramis does not question, at least not much. He is aware, though, that he looks a little foolish, his hair tied up, his clothing, baggy on him as a man, is like a series of large sacks on him, his boots far too big as he makes his way down the hallways. He smiles, though, not having a hat to tip, as he greets people. He knows he's not the only one who's suffered thusly. That's something anyway.

Comments

[praiseandglory]

"An even finer appreciation, yes," he confirms, and rephrases, because he's always had a fine appreciation for women, thank you. "Especially those of them who manage to fight well. Wait 'til you try that."

[averygoodshot]

Now, that Aramis remembers; tumbling around with Porthos in his female form.

He has not sparred in a good while and Porthos's words stir an urging in him that he hasn't felt in some time, almost as if a part of him is stirring back to life. "Are you offering?" he asks, looking at Porthos sidelong.

[praiseandglory]

"Always," Porthos answers with his rakish grin, but he stops by his door and opens it, right now. "But let's get you some better clothes, first."

[averygoodshot]

Yes, please. It seems Aramis had never noticed just how very roomy his clothes were. How they seem more like tablecloths than like proper attire. (Of course, he still doesn't wear the more modern clothing.)

He steps into Porthos's room, tucking an errant strand of hair back from his face.

[praiseandglory]

Porthos has never switched to a more modern style of clothing either, apart from during one occasion - his time spent in a woman's body. The undergarments and "jeans" he had secured for himself were definitely modern, for all that he'd stuck with his own shirts as a top. He'd bandaged his breasts on occasion, but they thankfully had been slight enough not to be in the way very much.

"I've only these to lend you," he states after rooting through his closet for the pair of odd trousers. "I used to wear my own shirts, still."

[averygoodshot]

Ah, yes. Aramis remembers these when Porthos wore them.

They're so rough. He holds them up, then shrugs. It isn't as if he can keep wandering around the hotel with his own trousers falling down.

Not thinking to change somewhere else (after all, they've seen each other sans trou more than once, of course).

He licks off the big boots, then only needs to let the heavy leather fall, and step out of them as he steps into the rough trousers. How strange they feel against his legs. Odd.

[praiseandglory]

Porthos stares at long, tanned legs for a second, then realises whose legs he's staring at, and turns around with a huff. He wouldn't have thought twice about it if Aramis had not had a female body, of course. "They take some getting used to," he warns his friend, after wiping a hand over his face.

[averygoodshot]

"They're - "

For a moment, Aramis is distracted from what he was saying by figuring out how to fasten the waist of these new trousers. "What is ... ?"

He looks up to see Porthos's back. "They're very ... they're much tighter than what we wear, aren't they?"

[praiseandglory]

"You've noticed," Porthos wryly answers. His own standard of 'wry', anyway, the sort that's mixed in with gruff affection.

[averygoodshot]

Especially around the thighs.

Aramis finally cottons to how the fastenings work, and then he goes about stuffing the excess of his tunic into the trousers, which isn't that easy either, actually.

"No skirt for you, mm?" he asks, as he does this. "Perhaps that would give the freedom we're missing here."

[praiseandglory]

"When it comes to looking like this, I feel there's such a thing as too much freedom," Porthos replies, his back still to Aramis. A long skirt seemed as if it would have got in the way, and a short one, the sort he's seen many women wear here... no, definitely too much freedom there.

[averygoodshot]

"Too much?" Aramis asks of Porthos's back.

"Ah, you mean those very ... those quite short skirts. You can turn around you know. I'm not naked."

[praiseandglory]

"That's a relief," Porthos answers in the same warm-wry tone, and does turn around. He is actually relieved to find that Aramis isn't half naked anymore, either. "Still want to spar?"

Porthos knows he hadn't felt any sort of peaceful until he'd managed to find a way to fight in this new body. As if he'd needed that to make it his own.

[averygoodshot]

"I do, actually. I want to get my sword then we can," Aramis tells him. "Shall I meet you there?" Already, he's heading toward the door.

[praiseandglory]

"Our usual spot," Porthos confirms, before the door closes on his friend. He picks up his discarded trousers and sets them aside. Aramis will need them back once he's returned to normal. Porthos wipes a hand over his face again, as he thinks back on those legs despite wanting to think of anything else, and then he heads out himself, to go to their usual spot outside. The weather has grown cooler, but they'll warm up in no time.

[averygoodshot]

It's only when he's back in his room that Aramis realizes he's forgotten his trousers. Whoops.

He fastens on his weapons belt and goes to join Porthos outside. He can't quite manage the swagger he's been known to have, but he is smiling as he approaches.

"Now, don't take it personally if I best you even if this form," he offers, almost like his old self.

[praiseandglory]

"Oh, I'd love to see you best me in any form you choose," Porthos replies with a grin. Banter is the way they always do it, and he draws his sword, actually planning on going easy on Aramis. There's not much choice, until he's got used to this new, temporary body of his.

[averygoodshot]

Even the sword feels not heavier so much as unbalanced. Aramis moves a little bit with it, a few feints, getting used to the feel of the weapon.

Well, if nothing else, it will be interesting.

He turns to face Porthos with a smile. "If you go easy on me, I will be very insulted."

Then he lunges forward.

[praiseandglory]

Porthos might not look it, but he is actually quite fast. He's not the fastest of them by far (he might actually be the slowest, though he'll never admit it), but he's more than fast enough to block that attack, and use only some of the force he would normally need to push Aramis back. "At least you can use your sword. You've a leg up on me, back then," he remarks, poking fun at himself now, and he steps forward into a simple attack, wanting to see how well Aramis can block in this body, which presumably has less strength than his normal one.

[averygoodshot]

"It's a skill that becomes second nature, like ... having a hand," Aramis says, leaning to the side to counter the attack and he nearly overbalances before catching himself and coming back swinging, coming across Porthos's body.

Of course, he's much smaller so all he pretty much does is barely slow Porthos down.

[praiseandglory]

"Until you're tiny and your sword's too bloody heavy for you to wield properly," Porthos retorts after parrying. "Then it's not like having a hand at all." He lunges in for another attack after giving them both a moment to gather themselves, although it wasn't as if he needed one, but Aramis is struggling with his balance. It's not going easy on him so much as giving him a fair shot, and giving him the best shot at learning better.

[averygoodshot]

All right. So, Aramis will admit that this is harder than he'd thought. If only because the balance seems entirely different.

Aramis takes a few steps back and takes a breath and balances himself again. "If Constance can do this," he reminds them both. Surely they can.

No offense, Constance.

Aramis lunges forward again.

[praiseandglory]

Porthos can't help but grin at his words, and meets his next attack, immediately counters. In the moment, he forgets to hold back and put less weight into the attack than he normally would.

[averygoodshot]

Their swords clang together and Aramis has to brace himself not to stagger back and he clasps the blade with both hands as he tries to push back.

It's like pushing against a wall and he gives up with a laugh. He takes a step back, then spins, going to use an elbow in Porthos's ribs.

[praiseandglory]

The blow takes Porthos by surprise, and lands between his ribs. He laughs as he shoves Aramis away, bending his knees and using his shoulder to do so. It's a move he's done countless times, although he's fairly certain it's the first time he uses it on a woman. On the body of a woman, anyway. "Nice one," he congratulates him, grinning.